


To Uncreate a Memory

by cleo (miri_cleo)



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/F, Femslash, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:50:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_cleo/pseuds/cleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Admiral Kathryn Janeway knows what it's like to bear the heavy burden of her decisions, but she didn't think anything could test her resolve with this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Uncreate a Memory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Oparu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/gifts).



> Thanks to twtd for beta work!
> 
> For oparu for Femslash12. I've always admired your dedication to this pairing, and I really enjoyed writing this piece for you. I hope you like it!

A café was not the place she intended to end up, but the warm glow of candlelight, real candlelight, through the windows had drawn her in. There was something sadistic, she supposed as she sipped her synthetic yellow chartreuse, about enjoying the setting, about being pulled there by a part of her past that was, at the least, gruesome. After all, she had suffered a lot as Katrine, but they had all suffered a lot in those years. And even the painful memories had their own sort of nostalgic pull. 

She licked her lips and rolled the stem of the glass between her palms. There was a billiards table tucked into a corner outside of the small dining area. It was well preserved but imperfect—either an antique or well crafted to look like one. It didn’t take her long to make her way to it; it might have been a long time since she had been in one of Tom’s holodeck programs, but she hadn’t lost her edge. It might have been a carefully guarded but cultivated skill on Voyager, but here she had no crew, no ranks to worry about.

Here, she didn’t have to guard herself so carefully. But so many years in the Delta Quadrant built habits that were hard to break. Even as they had grown into a family, had lost people and welcomed others, she had kept a piece of herself closed off. Ten years later, and she still held that piece. There was no one to share it with. 

She took her time setting up the table. No one seemed inclined to join her, but that was fine. A young couple sat close together in a corner as the candle on their table burned low. Three older men laughed quietly at the bar. Perhaps they were recounting old times. A lieutenant still in uniform furrowed her brow over a PADD. The server was bored, and the bartender looked busy without being busy. Kathryn was alone in her game, but she felt more solitude than she had in weeks. Each ball slipped into its pocket just like pieces of a well laid plan had begun to fit together. 

By the third time she was setting the table, the young officer had given up and ordered some sort of dessert. One of the older men had drifted away. The door opened and a new customer walked in. Kathryn heard it, but she concentrated on her break before glancing up.

There, she was frozen, bend, poised with cue between her fingers still after the energy of the moment. Her hair had gone grey and begun to turn white before they ever reached home. But bright auburn hair faded to the softest blonde, and that made her realize how very long it had been since she was young.

“Beverly Crusher,” she murmured to herself. But as if summoned, Beverly walked across the room. 

She rose slowly, fist curled around the cue as the rubber bottom came to rest against the floor. “It’s been a long time.”

“Kate.” Beverly’s eyes smiled before her mouth did. There were lines to go with that smile now. They were soft and well worn. In a world like theirs, the unkindness of time was easy to erase, but Beverly wore her age well. “Or should I say Admiral?”

Kathryn waved that away with her free hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I visited Jean Luc’s grave. I do every year at this time, if I’m on Earth.” Beverly took a cue, running her fingers over it thoughtfully before turning her attention to the table. 

“I’m sorry.” She knew that loss, the way it stabbed long after the blade had dulled. It made her stiff. In contrast, Beverly seemed nothing but light as she lined up a shot.

“It’s been a long time.” Since Picard’s death. Since so many things. “You’re still scowling.”

“You’re still choking the cue.” Kathryn pursed her lips as she carefully leaned her cue against the table. She did not hesitate in her steps. It was only when she curled her fingers gently around Beverly’s that she realized how strong the instinct guiding her had been. “Gently,” she said softly, coxing Beverly’s fingers to relax with her own. “Like that. Relax your body, don’t hunch over the cue and the table.” She could smell Beverly’s hair.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” There was humor in Beverly’s voice punctuated by the click of the cue ball against two others. Kathryn was vaguely aware that the young Lieutenant was gathering her things. 

“Was this how we met? I don’t remember.”

“You tried to hustle me. Then you tried to take me home.” Beverly stood, pressing back against Kathryn. She was taller, but she was still slender.

Kathryn closed her eyes for the briefest moment. How could she feel something so remote so acutely? None of these things had left her. “You said you had to get home to relieve the babysitter.” She opened her eyes as Beverly turned into her. 

“I did.” Beverly was smiling down at her, but without any manipulation or machine, Kathryn was looking into another time. “But you weren’t taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

“You weren’t wearing a ring.”

“No.” A cloud passed over Beverly’s eyes, and it was not brief. It had been there when they first met. Kathryn almost smiled sadly as she thought of it. It was chance the first time, and as fate would have it, chance brought them together now…for the last time. 

The lovers drew closer together; their candle had burned to nothing. She felt Beverly gently touch her cheek.

“Did I win?” she asked, eyes focused on the wisp of smoke disappearing into the air as the lovers stole a kiss. “Did I win that game, that night?”

“I can’t remember. I can’t remember if we ever finished it. Kathryn…”

She blinked hard, her eyes becoming unfocused. They were old; she was old. There was so little to keep her there, but the memory of a young widow, soft in her arms as they dozed on a precious lazy afternoon was bright. When they parted then, it was with a mutual warmth. They had loved each other, however briefly. But Beverly had her son and her posting, and Kathryn had her ambitions. 

Even now, some things had not changed. In ten years she hadn’t sought Beverly out because the possibility of finally having something that could be so full was too much for Kathryn to allow herself. It was more than she deserved after all of the sacrifices—those intended and worse.

Finally, she looked into Beverly’s eyes again. Her jaw was set, clenched so tight it hurt. To reach Beverly’s lips, Kathryn had to lift herself slightly onto her toes. She kissed her gently. Anything more might have changed what futures they had left. But soon, this moment would be nothing, not even a wandering thought or indulgent daydream.

“I’m glad I got to see you again,” she said softly as she stepped away. Kathryn did not smile, and she didn’t wait for Beverly’s eyes to question her before she turned away. The old men were putting on their hats, their shoulders hunched as they shuffled to the door. 

She would never be young and foolish again.


End file.
